Popcorn Should Be the 2013 National Thanksgiving Turkey and Caramel Should Rot in Hell

There is at least one functional White House–run Web site: the online home of the Gobbler Games, an interactive survey that asks participants to choose which turkey—Popcorn or Caramel—will be honored as the “2013 National Thanksgiving Turkey” and therefore present for an annual publicity stunt. (Both birds will receive a presidential pardon, though, scandalously, this does not permanently exempt them from death.)

Above are the two turkeys eligible to receive your votes. The choice is obvious—or at least, it should be, you sociopaths.

VF.com officially endorses Popcorn as the 2013 National Thanksgiving Turkey. Is Caramel even a turkey? Judging by the details of his sketchy, suspicious biography, he is a chimerical monster borne of the charred cervasses of an apocalyptic hellscape. At more than 38 pounds, Caramel is nearly a full pound heavier than wee Popcorn. His diet? The corpses of his peers washed down with Cinnabon vodka (and apparently soybeans). He’s also an entire inch taller than little Popcorn. Was Caramel genetically enhanced? Does cellular manipulation account for his grotesque and swollen form?

His walk: “steady and deliberate,” like that of a serial killer lusting for fresh blood and sated by nothing else. You know who else’s gait was described as “steady and deliberate” (this one time on the Internet)? Jack the Ripper. Caramel may think his purposeful walk can disguise the chaos and agony within, but America knows better, don’t you, America?

Caramel’s gobble is “quick, clear, and frequent,” like a Siren luring sailors to shipwreck and to certain death. Sing, beautiful turkey, “lolling there in your meadow, round you heaps of corpses rotting away, rags of skin shriveling on your bones.” That’s Circe, who is dead. Where was Caramel on the day Circe died?

To quote another poet, Lady Gaga, who, like the J. D. Salinger to Caramel’s Mark David Chapman, produced a work, “Bad Romance,” that later became the turkey’s spiritual manifesto: “Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh! Caught in a bad romance Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh! Caught in a bad romance Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah! Rama-ramama-ah GaGa-ooh-la-la!” Repudiate these excessive syllables. These are recessionary times—if not in Caramel’s twisted psyche, then certainly in the nation that must financially support the inexorable soybean addition of this little-understood demon.